


Earning the Right

by notearchiver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, M/M, Non-Graphic Bloodplay, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notearchiver/pseuds/notearchiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Severus is given his place at the right hand of his master, he has much to atone for. Lord Voldemort intends to see that he does just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earning the Right

**Author's Note:**

> Written for worshipdarklord.
> 
>  **Title:** Earning the Right  
>  **Author:** notearchiver  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Pairing(s)/Main Character(s):** Voldemort, Severus Snape  
>  **Word count:** 1,209  
>  **Warnings:** non-graphic bloodplay, implied future non-con  
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. Please don't copy/archive/re-post/re-blog this work without the explicit permission from the author/artist.

* * *

" _Finite_ ," Voldemort said, dismissively flicking his wand at Lucius, who immediately scrambled into a kneeling position at the cessation of the spell. He smiled minutely, despite his annoyance. Always so eager to please, his Lucius. Too eager, at times; and it was that which had caused the current predicament. He had specifically told Lucius not to kill wizards without his command, and that mass slayings of Muggles—he sneered, noting the Death Eaters who quivered—would only cause suspicion, something he did not need at the moment—not with the idiot Fudge still denying his return.

Severus, on the other hand—he turned to his left, studying the sharp visage of the thin man—he knew how to follow orders. This time Voldemort really did smile, pleased to see that Severus did not move.

Yes, Severus was different.

Voldemort turned back and surveyed his followers. "You may go. Await my call," he murmured.

In a ripple, the Death Eaters bowed and Disappartated, the small _pop_ s echoing off the vaulted ceilings of the old manor. Severus was the last to bow, and Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he watched the man bend at the hips, still rigid except for a small curve in his lower back.

Severus did not Disapparate, and Voldemort hid a smirk. How presumptuous of Severus. And yet, how it pleased him. He would not have thought Severus to be so dedicated that he would risk punishment to do was his master wanted without being told. The others would subtly slow down, waiting for his request—if they realised his wants at all.

"My, my, Severus. How impertinent of you," Voldemort murmured, approaching Severus, who was studiously looking at the ground, face hidden by his mask. Extending a hand, Voldemort tilted Severus' head up, one thin finger resting over his servant's Adam's apple. "Have you forgotten all of your manners while at Dumbledore's feet?"

The cartilage under his finger fluttered at Dumbledore's name, and Voldemort smiled at the slight tell.

"My apologies, Master," Severus said.

"They are noted, Severus. Words, however, are not equal to actions, and therefore cannot atone for them." Voldemort felt the muscles of Severus' neck tense under his hand. He pulled off the mask and dropped it to the floor, scrutinizing the black chasms that were Severus' eyes.

Oh yes, Severus Snape feared him. And how delicious that fear was, coming from such a strong man—a man who didn't close his eyes, didn't blink, whose veins pulsed against the skin of his forearms, limbs held taught over his head.

Running a finger around Severus' neck, Voldemort Conjured a length of chain, quickly forming it into a choke collar. He watched Severus' eyes widen as he slipped the collar over the man's head, hands skimming over sharp cheekbones before yanking the collar taught. Severus stiffened, a small grunt escaping his lips, but otherwise revealed no discomfort.

"You may kneel," Voldemort directed.

When Severus hesitated, he tightened the collar further, delighting at the sight of the red swathe of skin extending from underneath the chain. Blood beaded where the skin had been pinched abruptly between links, smearing the edges of the metal.

Severus knelt, hair swinging forward as he settled onto his knees, hands clasped behind his back. The length of chain scraped against the stone flagstones as Voldemort advanced to stand in front of the man.

In the faint light of the room, Voldemort could see Severus' chest rise slightly with each breath he took, his robes shifting ever so slightly at the exhalation. The man's eyes were closed—not in resignation, not in serenity, but in submission and acceptance.

"Come, Severus," Voldemort ordered, beginning to walk down the hall. "You have much to atone for."

He snapped the chain taught, pleased by the slight groan that emanated from behind him, before continuing to walk for a few steps, waiting for sounds of movement.

There they were—the whisper of robes against stone followed by the light sound of boots clicking on the hard surface. Voldemort smirked; Severus had done just what he expected him to.

Turning, Voldemort found Severus standing several paces behind him, his head bowed deferentially.

"Did I tell you to stand, Severus?" Voldemort inquired. His heartbeat accelerated when Severus slowly shook his head, causing red droplets to fall to the ground.

"No, my Lord."

Voldemort approached his servant, grabbing Severus' hair and yanking his head up, staring straight into the man's eyes and slipping into his mind with a nonverbal _Legilimens_.

"Then why did you stand and not crawl?"

Severus' mind had changed little in the years gone by. It was smooth and cool, the feel of steel when the weather was just about freezing. The deeper he dove, the more cracked and caustic the metal was, certain spots roiling with emotion. That was his Severus: outwardly constrained while inwardly bestial.

Even as he fought to breathe, Severus did not pull away. "I did not wish to make you wait for me, Master, as I would move slower if I crawled."

A section of the steel cracked.

"You lie, Severus," Voldemort hissed. "Oh yes, part of you stood so as not to keep me waiting, but the other…" he let go of Severus' hair, allowing the professor's head to drop forward. "The other part merely worried about becoming tangled in your robes." Voldemort coiled the excess chain in his hand, pleased when Severus stiffened as if to brace himself against another yank. He pretended to ignore it, instead continuing, "You are not to put your wishes before your master's."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus intoned.

"As it is, I shall grant you your wish."

Severus' head snapped up, eyes widening. "My Lord?"

" _Divestio_ ," Voldemort muttered, snatching Severus' wand as it flew from the disappearing clothing.

Just as Severus' mind had not changed, neither had his body, Voldemort mused: still a whipcord thin frame graced with a deluge of scars, repugnant and offensive in the utter lack of care shown to skin. But still his.

Still his indeed.

At the ensuing snap of metal against skin, Severus dropped to all fours, hands landing on the fallen drops of blood.

Voldemort leaned over and smoothed Severus' hair, hand coming to rest against the man's cheekbone. The nail of his thumb pressed against Severus' bottom lip, splitting the skin open and allowing droplets of blood to trickle down his hand.

"You may crawl by my side. Morning approaches, Severus, and we still have much to do."

Rising to his full height, Voldemort carefully licked the streaks of blood coating his finger.

Yes, much to do indeed.

\------

Releasing Wormtail's arm, Voldemort watched his Death Eaters arrive, the black-cloaked figures quickly forming a circle until only the spaces open were those on his right and left.

Two _pop_ s broke restless silence as Severus and Lucius arrived at the same moment, both bowing upon approaching Voldemort.

Voldemort studied the two figures. Lucius with his arched back and hair tied behind his mask. Severus, with his rigid form and hair swept forward, revealing the back of his neck.

The back of his neck which was riddled with pinpoint scars and mottled by bruises.

Voldemort smirked, red eyes glinting in the dim light.

"Severus, to my right."

\------


End file.
